Storms
by wallscollide
Summary: One February day, Callie makes a life-changing decision. She just doesn't know it yet.
1. Solitude

**A/N:** Vote and you shall receive. This is told from multiple points of view, all of which will be noted as they change. I hope you all like this.

I own nothing except my idea for this story.

* * *

 **Chapter 1 - "Solitude"**

 **Callie**

I can't deal with this today. School, my teachers as they drone on in class, the kids who are much too loud as they navigate through the halls.

Almost as loud as the thoughts in my head. They're moving fast enough to break the sound barrier. It feels that way, at least.

I look out the window and sigh. The sky matches my mood: dull, gray, gloomy.

I glance at the clock near the chalkboard. Five minutes to freedom.

The bell rings and I leave my French class as fast as my legs can carry me. Madame Gaba is spouting off a parting assignment, but I don't stick around to listen. I go to my locker and put my bag inside, grabbing my phone and closing the metal door.

Homework is the least of my worries.

I turn off the tracking app that Stef had installed on all of our phones. Jesus and his Chronic Misplacement Syndrome was the catalyst for this measure.

I don't want to be found. Not right now, anyway.

I leave the building and take a left, the opposite direction of where I should be going, but I don't care. Not too far from the school, it starts to drizzle, but I'm not fazed by the spitting mist. It would take a lot more than this to make me turn around.

I'm stubborn, that way.

I pass many cars, people, homes filled with those leading perfect lives with their perfect jobs, perfect marriages, 1.8 kids, and we mustn't forget the dog.

I keep walking and by the time I get to my destination several miles later, the drizzle has turned to a steady rain.

My hair is soaked. My jacket isn't going to stand up to this for much longer.

I walk through the entrance and along the asphalt, moving to grass and the beginnings of mud beneath my feet.

In a strange way, I feel comfortable being here. With all of these other people, I don't feel so alone.

After a maze of zigzags, I stop. I'm here.

I lean over and touch the wet stone in front of me.

"Hey, Mom."

Her headstone is somewhat weathered and worn by the elements. It hasn't been that long, but it feels like forever at the same time.

I trace her name with my finger. I read the words in front of me over and over, as if I need to commit the letters and numbers to memory.

Like I could ever forget.

Sometimes, I wish I could.

 **COLLEEN ANNA JACOB**

 **June 3, 1974 - October 25, 2007**

It's not much of a grave. Her sudden death didn't leave us with many funds for a funeral. The truth is, we were lucky to afford a casket, much less a ceremony or fancy marker.

Still, I feel guilty that it is so neglected, even though I'm not at fault for the state it is in. Jude and I had moved around so much in the years that followed. We were never in one place for very long. Just as we got used to a new house, foster parents, and siblings, we were yanked out and placed somewhere else.

I still don't see it as an excuse.

"I know I should come around more often," I say into the wind and rain as some kind of fucked up apology. Like it absolves me of some sin that I can't name.

My hair is stringy and drips in front of my face. My jacket is about ready to soak through. My knees are wet from the grass. I don't care. It doesn't matter.

In this moment, nothing matters except for what's in front of me.

Somehow, it starts to rain harder.

"Jude and me...we haven't forgotten about you. I still make your biscuits and gravy, the way you showed me. I gave him a copy of _Hansel and Gretel_ for his birthday last year. He loved when you read that to him. Shit," I curse, my strong resolve fading. I struggle to find my voice again for a few minutes. "I did, too. I know I acted like I was too old for it, and I'm sorry. Why did I do that? I miss your voice calling me 'Callie Q,' your laugh. The smell of blueberry muffins wafting through the house on Saturday mornings. When you'd share your perfume with me if we went somewhere special. I forget what kind it was." My words are teeming with both longing and regret.

My face is wet from more than just the rain.

"I miss you. So much."

That's it. My walls are breached, my resistance truly broken.

I'm completely exposed. I feel naked.

I cry. Cry harder than I have in years. Sobs just keep coming in continuous waves; I don't try to stop them. It would be a pointless battle that I'd be sure to lose.

I huddle on the ground and tuck my knees into my chest, saturated, rocking slightly in a feeble attempt to self-soothe.

I don't know how long I cried or how much time has passed. I just know that I'm cold and sleepy. I take off my sodden jacket and lay my head on it like a pillow. I close my eyes and see her face. She's smiling.

 _Watch over me, Mom_ , is my last thought before darkness claims me.

* * *

 **A/N:** I wanted to explore the grief Callie feels surrounding her mom's death. I've lost loved ones, so I draw on that as inspiration. Some days, it can be all-consuming.

 **Behind the Story:** The idea for this story came to me one night and I could not sleep without writing it down; most of it was written within a few hours.

Leave me your thoughts if you so choose. This was my first time writing Callie in first person; I wrote this before **Looking Back, Moving Forward**. Let me know if you think this 'reads' like her or not.


	2. Lost

**A/N:** Thanks to everyone for the reviews/follows/favorites so far. You all rock.

I just finished a short Stef/Callie thing that will eventually see the light of day, which makes me feel good, which means you get an update. Enjoy.

* * *

 **Chapter 2 - "Lost"**

 **Lena**

I step inside my house, grateful to be out of the driving rain. It's after four o'clock. I had to stay late after the school day ended to catch up on paperwork. I need to get dinner started. The first person I see is Jesus. He's playing video games in front of the TV.

"Hey, Mama," he greets me, but doesn't take his eyes off the screen.

"Hey." I smile.

"That rain is crazy."

"I know. My hair is about to turn into a giant ball of frizz," I tell him, laughing. "Is Callie upstairs? I need to talk to her."

"I thought she was with you."

I frown. His response surprises me. "What do you mean?" I ask, stepping down into the living room.

"She didn't walk home with us."

At that, I'd be lying if a jolt of panic did not startle me.

"When did you last see her?"

"In the hall after sixth period. Why?"

I don't answer him. Instead, I call for everyone to meet me downstairs. When I ask them all if they know where Callie is, they give similar answers as Jesus: they thought she was with me or Wyatt. None of them saw her leave the school. They text her phone with no response. I call and it goes straight to her voicemail.

I give Wyatt a try and he's no help, either.

Finally, I check the 'Find My Phone' app and tap Callie's name. Stef and I both have the security code to see everyone's location. A box pops up.

 _The device registered to this user is not connected. Click here to refresh the page._

Either her phone is dead, or she turned it off. I look at the last known location. It's the school.

I sigh and I know that I'm down to my last option. I have to tell my wife that our daughter is missing.

I force the kids go upstairs while I make this phone call. Stef picks up after three rings.

"Hey, love." She sounds happy to hear my voice.

"Hey. Listen, you don't happen to know where Callie is, do you?"

"No." That one word is drawn out. "Why?"

"She didn't walk home with the others after school."

Her questions come rapidly and more worry creeps into her voice with each one. "She's not with Wyatt?"

"No. He last saw her after seventh period; they have Economics together."

"Did you call her?"

"Yes. It goes straight to voicemail. She's not answering texts, either."

"Did you check her location?"

"The last one was the school, right after the final bell."

"Okay. I'm coming home. Stay put."

She ends the call before I can respond.

Stef is at the front door in record time. She goes upstairs to grill the kids, but she doesn't get any more information out of them than I did. I watch her as she paces the living room floor, calling any number she can think of. Daphne has not heard from Callie and Kiara doesn't have a cell phone. Rita, Michelle, or any of the Girls United residents have not seen nor talked to her today. They promise to let us know if Callie does show up there or tries to contact them.

Her boss at the burger stand hasn't seen her and neither have her co-workers.

Stef sinks down on the couch, her head in her hands. "Where is she?" I hear her whisper.

I wish I knew.

We both look up at the sound of footsteps on the stairs. It's Mariana.

"Moms? I forgot that Tia is in the same French class as Callie and I asked her if she knew anything. All she said was that Callie booked it out of there as soon as the bell rang, like she was in a hurry. That's all."

"Thank you, Mariana," Stef exhales. "If she thinks of anything else..."

"I know. I told her to tell me."

If this were any other situation, our youngest daughter would be asking when dinner would be ready.

It was safe to assume that none of us felt like eating.

I felt paralyzed. What if Callie wasn't just avoiding our attempts at communication? What if something had happened to her?

My baby. Out there on the streets of San Diego or somewhere else. _Alone_.

The thoughts alone were too much.

 _[][][][][][]_

 **Brandon**

Jude, Jesus, and I are all together in our sisters' room, waiting for Mariana to come back. Jesus looks worried, but Jude is pale, like he's about to hurl.

I know we're all thinking the same thing: _maybe Callie ran away_.

But, I find fault in that idea. Things have been great for us. Callie's and Jude's adoption was official two months ago. They aren't in the system anymore. Callie's not on probation or any lists that involve the state.

She's seemed happy with us.

Right now, I'm trying to step up and be the big brother. I put on a brave face and drape my arm around Jude. "Moms will find her. I'm sure she's okay," I hear myself say, but even _I_ have trouble believing my own words.

My little brother's nervous stomach gets the best of him. He bolts to the adjoining bathroom and heaves into the toilet. Jesus and I follow him. I sink down beside him and place a reassuring hand on his back while Jesus prepares water for Jude to rinse his mouth out with. He finishes, flushes, and swishes the awful taste away, slumping back against the tub. I sit next to him and Jesus does the same. Jude moves to rest his head on my shoulder.

"Moms will find her, Jude. I promise."

Words are all I have to give him. I know they're not enough.

Nothing will be until we know Callie is safe.

 _[][][][][][]_

 **Stef**

I can't stand this. The silence. Idleness.

I can't sit here and do nothing, will my phone to ring.

I have to do _something_.

I stand up from the couch, going to the coat rack for my jacket and an umbrella.

"Stef? Where are you going?" Lena asks me.

"I have to go look for her. I can't just sit here." The words tumble out of my mouth in a harsher tone than I mean to use.

If Lena is hurt, she doesn't let it show. "Okay. Just be careful."

"I will. I love you," I tell her sincerely.

"I love you, too," she echoes and watches me leave.

I jog out to my SUV and turn the engine, my tires hitting the wet pavement. I drive. I drive, looking out at everything possible to catch even the slightest glimpse of my missing daughter.

 _Missing_.

I can't help but feel déjà vu wash over me. We've been through this before with her.

This time feels different, though.

Callie's been fine. She follows the rules, does well in school, not much of an attitude.

Something else is at play, here. I feel it in my bones.

I go to Anchor Beach and park, heading quickly to the playground and athletic fields, scanning the equipment and bleachers.

They're deserted. Empty.

I get back in my car, racking my brain to think of other places Callie would go.

The movie theater. The drop-in center.

The Cinemark is where I stop next. I show the staff a recent photo of Callie, but they don't recognize her. I thank them for their time.

Rafael has not seen or heard from Callie and neither has anyone else who is there. More promises to contact us.

Another dead end.

I drop by the burger stand and Girls United just in case, but I get the same responses.

Dejected, I drive home. Lena's hopeful face meets me at the door, but I have nothing good to offer her, certainly not our daughter.

She holds me while I let the tears fall.

* * *

 **A/N:** Let me know what you all think! Throw some predictions my way!


	3. Names

**A/N:** Borrowed some ER characters (Abby Lockhart and Sam Taggart) and some dialogue from 07x18 - "April Showers" from ER as well. I don't own any of it.

I was going to wait until tomorrow to update, but I changed my mind. :) You guys have been so amazing with your response and feedback! It's a pleasure to post this for you all to enjoy.

I'm not a doctor.

 **Medical terms:**

BP \- Blood pressure

Respiration \- Respiration rate; breaths per minute

Foley \- Foley catheter; inserted into the bladder to collect urine

NG \- Nasogastric tube, used in this case to administer warm fluids quickly via the stomach

Humidified oxygen \- Used to warm a person's airway and body

"q fifteen" - Every fifteen minutes; q means "each, every," from the Latin, _quaque_

* * *

 **Chapter 3 - "Names"**

 **Abby**

 _Ambulance Bay - University of California - San Diego Medical Center_

It's pouring rain as I meet the paramedics outside. They open the back doors of the ambulance and give me the bullet on my latest patient. They yell because the rain makes it hard to hear.

"Jane Doe. Approximately sixteen year-old female. Environmental exposure with secondary hypothermia."

We begin to wheel her inside. "Any idea how long she's been down?"

"She was found unconscious at Oakview Cemetery by the groundskeeper. He was locking it up due to the weather and found her. She has no ID, but a cell phone is in her possession. BP is 80/palp, respiration's 10, pulse is 45, core temp is 86."

I see Sam over at the desk. "Sam, I need you. Hypothermic kid." She swings around to meet me as I shine a penlight in the girl's eyes. "Pupils are slow, but reactive. Set up for re-warming," I order as we take her down the hall and into the trauma room. I listen to her heart and lungs. Her breaths are slow and shallow. We need to move quickly as she is on the verge of going into respiratory distress. "Put in a foley. Start a second line of warm saline and let's get her out of these clothes." We transfer her from the stretcher to the bed. Sam gets the other IV going while I cut off the girl's heavy jeans and shirt, dry her off, and place a blanket over her. Sam removes the girl's shoes and socks, and then inserts the catheter.

"Let's drop an NG. Active internal re-warming will be faster."

Sam brings me the supplies needed and I inch the tube through her nose, down her throat, and into her stomach. I hook up the bag and warm fluids begin to pass through it.

I start her on humidified oxygen as well.

My patient's only belongings are her wet, dark green jacket and her phone. I turn it on, but it's locked; a passcode is needed. I can't access any of her contacts.

I have to wait until she wakes up before I can find out who she is.

"Vitals q fifteen and let me know if she wakes up."

Sam understands and I leave to tend to other patients.

 _[][][][][][]_

 **Lena**

Stef is distraught. I'm trying to hold it together.

Mike is here. The two of them are calling the local hospitals to see if anyone has come in that matches Callie's description.

Nothing.

We have no trail to follow. No leads.

We're going to have to file a missing persons report.

I was praying it wouldn't have to come down to that.

My prayers aren't being answered.

I just want my daughter back, safe. Is that too much to ask for?

It's a small favor in my mind. Can't the universe give me what I want, just this once?

 _I'll never ask for anything ever again_ , I silently vow.

 _Please let Callie come back to us_.

 _[][][][][][]_

 **Callie**

I see nothing but darkness. I hear steady beeping, hissing, and muted chatter. I feel someone touch my hair and put an object in my ear, with a _click_ and a beep.

In a flash, my senses come flooding back, seemingly in overdrive. I moan a little and open my eyes, immediately squeezing them shut as light sneaks through. After a moment, I try again. I'm in a room with green walls. According to the clock, it's almost 8 PM.

That can't be right. 8 PM? It should only be around 5.

I now notice that there's something over my mouth: a mask. Warm air flows from it. I feel tugging at my arms. They're heavy.

I grimace slightly at the sensation of something in my nose. It's throbbing and burning at the same time. I feel it in my throat, too. It's not pleasant. A dull ache pulses in my stomach.

I moan again.

"Hey. You're awake."

I look up to see a woman with brown hair staring down at me. She's smiling a little.

"You gave us a scare."

A scare? What is she talking about?

Suddenly, I remember.

The sidewalk. The cemetery. Mom's grave. The mud. The rain. The cold seeping to my bones. I'd never felt anything like it.

And now, the most important question: _how did I get here?_

 _[][][][][][]_

 **Abby**

Sam paged me; my teenaged Jane Doe has regained consciousness.

I go to Trauma Two and push the doors open.

I turn to Sam. "What are her vitals?"

"BP's 105/70, temp's 97."

I smile and focus my attention on the girl. "Hey."

She turns her head and looks at me; her breaths fog up the interior of the oxygen mask that covers her mouth.

I walk up to her. "I'm Dr. Lockhart. You're in a hospital. You were brought in with hypothermia, so we had to warm you up through your stomach. It'll hurt for awhile, but you're gonna be okay," I assure her gently. "Can you tell me your name?"

"C...Callie...Adams Foster."

I nod and remove the mask. "Callie, do you remember what happened to you?"

"I was visiting my mom at her grave...I think I fell asleep."

"Were you waiting for someone?"

She shook her head weakly. "No."

I lend a comforting touch to her arm. "Why were you out by yourself in such bad weather?"

I am always sensitive to kids coming in here. I've seen too many deadbeat, neglectful moms and dads collect them, full of empty apologies as my colleagues and I witness some of their lowest moments. _It's a school day. What kind of parents don't know where their daughter is?_

"I just...wanted to see her."

"How old are you?"

"I'm sixteen," she tells me.

"Okay. The groundskeeper found you and called the paramedics. They brought your phone in. It has a passcode. Can you tell me what it is so I can call your parents?"

"My birthday. 0-7-1-1. Their numbers are in my Favorites."

I put the mask back over her mouth and nose, pick up her phone from the tray, enter the code, and go through her contacts, locating both a 'Mom' and 'Mama.' I don't see a 'Dad' listed, so I stick with these two entries. I go to the phone that's mounted to the wall and dial 'Mom's' cell phone number, waiting for her to pick up.

* * *

 **A/N:** So, _**inky.13**_ , you were right! Great guess! Gold star for you! I loved reading everyone's predictions; there were some scenarios that I never thought of, you guys have some creative imaginations.

 **Behind the Story:** Callie becoming hypothermic was in my plans from the beginning. That Callie section was added just before I posted this. I decided at the last-minute to include her waking up and I wanted it to be from her perspective.

There will be more soon!


	4. Found

**A/N:** As always, I thank everyone who's reading and those who leave reviews; thanks so much for taking a moment to leave a comment. You guys are great and I appreciate all of you.

Here's the next bit. Enjoy.

* * *

 **Chapter 4 - "Found"**

 **Stef**

I'm beside myself with worry. I know Lena is, too. The kids are scared. Mike has been trying everything he can think of, bless his heart.

No one has seen Callie in almost five hours.

Lena comes from the kitchen with a fresh pot of coffee and refills my cup. I nod in thanks.

I glance at my cell phone for a moment. I haven't heard back from anyone. I sigh heavily and drink the dark, bitter liquid.

My phone's ringtone fills the silence. I snatch it up and see that a local area code is calling me. "Hello?"

"Hi, Mrs. Adams Foster?" a woman greets me, wishing to confirm that she has contacted the correct person.

"Y-yes, this is she." Lena and Mike are looking at me anxiously.

"I'm Dr. Abby Lockhart from UCSD Medical Center. Your daughter Callie was brought in to the ER several hours ago by paramedics."

"They found her. Callie's in the hospital," I tell them, nearly breathless. Lena puts her hand over her mouth, in shock.

"She was severely hypothermic, but we managed to bring her temperature back to normal."

"Hypothermic?" My brain was trying to figure out what that meant. My mind is racing. As soon as I heard that Callie was okay, everything since has been a blur. "She was hypothermic?"

"Yes. It appears that she was outside for quite some time; that pouring rain is cold. It wouldn't have taken long to set in, especially since she wasn't appropriately dressed for the weather."

"Where was she found?"

"Oakview Cemetery. The groundskeeper found her unconscious."

 _Oakview Cemetery. That's only a few miles from the school. Why didn't I check there?_

"Callie had no ID on her, but she had her phone. I needed her passcode before I could contact you," the doctor informs me. "She woke up a few minutes ago. She is alert and oriented to person, place, and time. We'll be expecting you."

"Thank you, Doctor. Thank you so much." I felt my emotions taking over.

"See you soon."

I end the call and Lena envelopes me in a crushing hug a split-second later. We're both crying.

I hear the kids all come down; they must have been listening on the stairs.

"Is Callie okay?" Jude asks.

"Can we see her?" Mariana wonders.

"What hospital?" Brandon pipes up.

I let go of Lena and wipe my eyes. "Callie is at UCSD. She was brought in with hypothermia. Just Mama and me are going, okay? Come here, my babies. It's alright."

We all gather for a group hug. I squeeze the life out of the four of them before Lena and I scramble to the car.

I'm almost certain I blew a few speed limits on the way, but I park in the ER's lot and we rush through the doors.

"Are you two here for Callie?" a brunette doctor asks us. She's standing next to the triage desk.

I recognize her voice; I spoke to her just minutes ago.

"Yes. Where is she?" I sound anxious, but I can't help it. I just want to see my daughter.

"I'll take you to her." She buzzes us through the entrance that separates the waiting room from the main floor. "Callie was brought in with an extremely low core temperature and blood pressure. Her reflexes were very sluggish; all of these are normalizing." We take a left past the admit desk and go straight down the hallway to a green room with double doors. "She's in here."

Dr. Lockhart pushes open the doors and lets us in first. We rush to her side, feeling the tears come again.

My breath catches in my throat. Callie looks so small. She's pale and has a tube up her nose and tape across her upper lip to secure it in place. An oxygen mask is covering her mouth.

"Callie," I breathe, stroking her hair and kissing her forehead as she faces me. I pull back and look at her. "You scared the shit out of me." I feel tears fall down my cheeks.

"Out of both of us," Lena amends for me, planting kisses on her skin as well. "We were _so_ worried."

The relief we feel is palpable.

"Love, what were you thinking, being out in that rain?" What drove her to do this? I wanted answers.

Callie turns away. "I just wanted to be alone."

"We were sick to death. We had _no idea_ where you were. We were two minutes away from filing a missing persons report."

"I'm sorry," she apologizes in a small voice; her eyes turn watery.

"I know you are," I sigh and look at Lena. She's silently telling me that anger can wait until later. She's right; she almost always is.

I'm more composed this time. "Why did you turn off the tracker? We require that for a reason, reasons just like what has happened."

"I didn't want you to find me."

"We don't care if you visit your mom, honey. I wish you would've told us—" Lena was saying, but Callie cut her off.

"I don't wanna talk about her," she seethed, as much as her fatigue would allow her to.

Dr. Lockhart saw this as an opportunity to speak to Lena and I outside. "Listen, Moms. I know how scared Callie made you, and you have every right to be angry, but I think it's best that you save the lectures for later, okay? She doesn't need the added stress right now."

"Do you have kids, Doctor...?" I couldn't think of her last name.

"Lockhart. And I do: my son turns seven in May."

"Maybe you'll understand our position one day, but I hope you never do." I didn't want to be rude, but I was beyond frayed and she had no right to tell us how to parent our child.

"Callie will be admitted to Pediatrics overnight for observation. She has been through a traumatic few hours. Just let her know that you love her. Discipline her tomorrow. Be grateful that you have the option."

I sigh as Lena wraps an arm around me, centering me, bringing me back from the edge yet again. I look at my daughter through the glass and decide that I don't want to spend another second apart from her. I don't see the look of thanks that Lena gives Dr. Lockhart as she follows me back inside.

Dr. Lockhart brings us stools to sit on and leaves us alone to be with Callie.

"I love you, Callie Quinn. I love you so much." I'm stroking her cheek. Lena is holding her hand.

"I love you, too, Mom. You're right, I—"

I'm quick to stop her. "No, no, love. We'll deal with that later. We're just glad you're okay."

It was enough for now. Callie was alive and breathing. Looking in my eyes, talking to me.

It was enough.

* * *

 **A/N:** This situation might seem improbable, but February is one of the coolest times of the year in San Diego. They only have ~40 rainy days per year, with February being their rainiest month, on average. I did my bit of research. Cooler temperatures plus rain, and there you have it. Maybe it's not entirely realistic, but I'm not just making stuff up.

Let me know what you all think!


	5. Aftermath

**A/N:** I just want to address this review from **Guest** really quickly (if you had an account and sent this in, I would have PM'd you and not made this public; this is not me singling you out or anything like that):

 _I'm pulled out of the story with the addition of the ER characters. The crossover doesn't work forE because it's not logical with the geography. Other than that, I'm a fan of the story but skim over the ER parts instead of truly reading them._

I'm curious as to why my additions aren't logical; Callie's unconscious, so what other point of view am I supposed to use there? I don't believe I was excessive or anything with Abby; it's not like I dedicated an entire chapter to her. Although, I can see how that strictly medical/ER section could be off-putting as that's not what you're here for. It was just the way I chose to move the story along. I wish you would elaborate on this further; I welcome constructive feedback (which is what I consider your review to be; I don't think you were bashing the chapter or harsh at all) and it can help me improve if I knew exactly why you weren't a fan of it. I just want to understand and I respect that everyone has different tastes.

 _[][][][][][]_

Borrowed Doug Ross from ER, as well. Not my character.

Here's the last chapter.

* * *

 **Chapter 5 - "Aftermath"**

 **Callie**

I stare through the glass, out into the hallway in the kids ward. It's all bright and cheerful, which is annoying. I'm too old for rainbows, puppies, and kittens.

Moms are talking with Dr. Ross who's been overseeing my care. He's actually pretty nice. And sorta cute, for a guy who's old enough to be my dad.

A child psychologist came to see me earlier. Apparently, I 'ran away' and it was a 'cry for help.'

Bullshit.

If there was one thing I learned while in the system, it was to become invisible. Go unnoticed.

I sigh. I guess 'going dark' was an example of how _not_ to do that.

Especially when one of your moms is an overprotective cop.

All I did was put a spotlight on myself. Almost freeze to death.

 _Almost_.

The weight of that realization suddenly hits me square in the chest. My breath catches in my throat.

 _Oh, my God. I could be dead right now._

 _Leaving Jude alone._

 _My baby brother._

I put my head in my hands. He had to have been terrified.

They all were.

I did that. It's my fault.

A sob chokes me.

Within seconds, I'm crying. A breathless, overwhelming, almost painful release of everything that's happened in the last twenty-four hours. My emotions are everywhere.

I'm mad at myself for crying with my moms right outside.

For worrying everyone.

For screwing up.

 _Why_ was I such a screw up?

Leave it to me to cause a big crisis. _Again._

Why couldn't I open my mouth and tell Moms about my mom?

About how much I missed her.

I just needed to feel close to her.

Sometimes, her memory seems so far away. Others, just out of my reach.

Jude's transition into the family has been practically seamless. He goes to Moms for everything.

For a moment, I envy him.

I'm so wrapped up in my thoughts and crying that I don't notice Stef's or Lena's return. One of them is stroking my hair and the other is pressing her lips to my temple, her hand on the small of my back. If they're saying anything, I don't hear it.

This is wrong.

 _This is wrong_.

I don't deserve to be comforted.

I don't deserve their understanding.

I don't deserve their love.

"Stop! Don't!" I yell, flinching away from both of them.

They pull back and look at me, shocked, like I just slapped them across their faces.

I try to protect myself and I still hurt them.

That's all I'm good at.

"How can you stand to be near me?" I ask, choking back tears. I can't look at them.

"What? Callie..."

Lena sounds heartbroken.

I feel disgusting.

"Why are you here?"

"Callie, how can you say that?" Stef wonders. She sounds sad, too.

"I just put you through hell and you're making sure _I'm_ okay. I don't deserve it." Guilt and shame tinge my words.

I hear Stef take a deep breath before speaking. "You're right."

 _Wait, what?_

"Do you have any idea how scared we were? How scared your siblings were? I have never felt so helpless in my life. We were all utterly distraught. Jude was physically ill."

"I miss her." It comes out as a whisper. My chin quivers slightly and I feel more tears pricking at the corners of my eyes, but I blink them away. "I just needed her close. She feels so far away sometimes, like I'm forgetting her."

"Callie, you will never forget your mom. Those memories never get lost," Lena tells me, taking my hand in hers.

Without even thinking about it, I reach to touch the gold coin that hangs around my neck. "But I am. Every time I let you get close, I'm allowing you to take her place."

"No, baby. No. That's not true. We could never replace her and we're not trying to. She's your mother. She would want you to have parents who love you, who take care of you as their own," Stef assures me. Her voice is sensitive, gentle, soothing.

I don't think I could speak even if I wanted to, so I just nod.

"You can come to us with anything, Callie. Even if it's something you think we don't want to hear. It's okay to miss your mom, to wish she was still here, and to grieve that loss. We would never tell you to shut that part of yourself off just because we adopted you," Lena says.

For some reason, I feel the need to explain. "I didn't run away. Being out there was...it was a mistake."

"It could've been a _fatal_ mistake, Callie. You almost _died_. Another hour and..."

Stef doesn't finish her thought.

I don't need her to.

Lena speaks while Stef collects herself. "Dr. Ross is letting you go home in a few hours. We'll talk more then." She kisses my head.

I can live with that.

 _[][][][][][]_

Everyone is waiting in the foyer when Moms and I walk inside.

As the door shuts behind me, I stumble back a step as someone's arms wrap around me tightly.

Jude is holding on for dear life. His tears soak into my shirt.

I attempt to soothe him. "Jude, shhh. It's okay. I'm here." Seeing him lose it causes me to struggle with keeping my own emotions in check.

"I thought you ran away. I thought you were dead."

"I didn't. I didn't, Jude. I swear. I could never leave you again." I kiss the top of his head.

At that, he loosens his hold and steps back, sniffling and wiping his eyes. Mom pulls him to her side, giving him a squeeze.

Mariana hugs me next. "I'm so glad you're okay."

"Me, too," I tell her and I mean it.

Brandon and Jesus have their turns and then Moms follow me upstairs, citing my doctor's orders to rest. I change into sweats and climb into their bed. They both sink down on either side of me.

Here it comes.

"Don't you ever, _ever_ do this again, Callie. You do not run away, you do not take off without telling one of us—"

"But, I didn't—"

Mom puts up her hand to stop me, shaking her head. "It doesn't matter. We couldn't find you. We had no idea if you were safe. You could've been lured away by someone, raped, or worse."

I flinch. I can't help it. A shiver runs through me.

"I know," I sigh. "I'm sorry."

I take their silence as permission to continue.

"I didn't mean to be gone that long. I was going to come home. I just...got lost in it all, I guess."

"All of what?" Mama wonders, encouraging me.

I swallow and look down.

I try to steel myself. _I can do this. I started to open up in the hospital. I can do it here, too. I'm safe._

"My grief," I croak, feeling a lump form in my throat. It's all too much, and I can't stop my tears from spilling over.

I keep talking because I know that if I stop, I'll clam up. "I was talking to her and I was crying for a long time and I just...became numb to everything else. I forgot where I was and the cold was too much. I felt tired and lay down. The next thing I remember is waking up in the ER."

"Sweetheart, we think that you should talk to someone. A professional. You've never had the chance to truly process the accident and everything that happened. You know you can't shove this down inside. We think it would really help," Mama says gently, like she's trying to convince me.

Mom nods. "We should've suggested it sooner, like after my dad died."

I look up at her, remembering our tearful conversation in the backyard during Grandpa Frank's memorial. I can tell that she's in the same headspace.

Mama spoke next. "We will not let you talk to anyone that you don't feel one-hundred percent comfortable with, honey. I promise you that."

Mom takes a deep breath and changes the subject. "As for your punishment, young lady..."

It's time to learn my fate. I'm ready to take it on the chin, whatever it is. I deserve it.

"You are grounded until further notice. School, work, therapy, and home. That's it."

I look down and nod. It's more than fair.

"And don't think we forgot about the stunt you pulled with your phone. You deliberately disobeyed one of our few steadfast rules. You do not _ever_ turn off that locator app for _any_ reason. Wanting alone time is no excuse. If you want space, you tell us and we will give it to you. Therefore, this," Mom holds up my iPhone, "is ours until we can trust you to use it according to our rules again."

Yep, still a fair punishment. I'm not happy about it, but I'm in no position to complain.

"I do need a phone, though. To contact you."

"Ah, we thought you'd say that. We're one step ahead of you there, kid."

Mom reaches into the drawer next to her and pulls out a small, green device. "This was activated today. Say hello to your new phone."

I eye it curiously. It has a small screen, but with buttons numbered one through four, with others that begin and end calls, and the last is for emergencies.

"It was Brandon's first phone I bought him so he could get a hold of me when he was at his dad's or out somewhere without me. Now, it's yours."

She hands it to me. "It only makes calls," I state plainly.

"A keen observation," Mom says coolly. "No Internet, no texts. I've taken the liberty of programming numbers into it. 1 is the house, 2 is me, 3 is Mama, and 4 is the burger stand; the main number, not your boss' cell phone. You have to know the code in order to change them, so don't even try it."

I groan inwardly. This is embarrassing. Here I am, sixteen, with a phone that's for kids under age ten.

And then I remember why they're doing this. If this is supposed to serve as a deterrent, it's already working.

I guess things could be worse.

I could be in a gutter somewhere, in a coma. My moms could be making funeral arrangements right now. Instead, they're sitting beside me.

I look up at both of them, smiling a little.

I feel cared for. I feel loved.

For the first time in a long time, I know I'm where I'm supposed to be.

I'm home.

 **THE END**

* * *

 **A/N:** Another story completed. I loved writing it. Writing everyone in first person was fun and challenging; I loved diving into everyone's heads and capturing all of the characters' unique voices.

What I took away from this is how I showed that we're all flawed, which is something that I think _The Fosters_ does well. They let us see people who triumph and mess up. No one's perfect. Abby had preconceived notions about Callie's home life due to her experiences with her work (and I like to think that maybe Stef's and Lena's reunion with Callie helps her take steps to not being so jaded and judgmental when it comes to her patients and their families; I know she's a fictional character and all, I'm just saying), Stef's "cop" instincts overshadowed her "mom" ones for a moment. Callie still tries to handle things on her own because that's all she knew for a long time.

Also, grief is something that never goes away. It gets "easier" to deal with as time goes on, but the wounds never fully heal. It's important to embrace it and accept those days where it's "awful" and "messy" and feel it and go through it, as Stef pointed out to Lena in 03x07. It's okay to talk about it if it will help, or not; everyone processes it in their own way. It's important to have a support system in place when those times hit.

As always, thank you so much to everyone who has read, reviewed, and enjoyed this story. It's fun to write for me, but I like sending things out into cyberspace and letting others discover and be entertained by what I do.

There's more stuff coming from me, stay tuned...


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